"Just give me a smile." Don't give me too much affection. What can I do to repay your feelings is the heaviest debt? I can't pay it back. How can I forget to give me a smile? Like a thin glass of wine. Like a gentle wind, this is the most touching declaration. It seems that spring is warm and elegant. Behind Wang Guozhen's "back" is always simple and simple. It's a kind of scenery. The back is always young. It is always subtle and subtle. This is a kind of charm. The back is always lonely, which reminds people of night thoughts. Author: Li Bai, the thread at the foot of my bed is so bright, can it have frosted? . I looked up at the moon and looked down, feeling nostalgic. There seems to be no one on Wangweikong Mountain in Chai Lu, but I think I hear a voice. Go back to the depths of the forest and shine at me from the green moss. Zhu Author: Wang Wei, I am leaning alone in the bamboo grove, playing the piano and humming a song. It's too light for anyone to hear, except my partner, Mingyue. Farewell, Wang Wei, my friend, I watched you go down the mountain, and I didn't close the door of the hut until it was dark. Spring grass is green every year, but what about you, my friend Prince? . Wang Wei's lovesickness, when those red berries came in spring, flushed on your southern branches. People who want to miss them collect more, and Mix red beans have attracted people's attention. Wang Wei's Miscellaneous Poems, from your old country, tell me what happened there! . When you passed my window, did the plum blossom bloom its first cold flower? . Send Cui Jiu Author: Although you want to return to this labyrinthine mountain, Pei Di, oh, let them fill your heart and wonder! . Instead of learning from Wu Lingren described by Tao Yuanming, he stayed in the Peach Blossom Garden for a few days and then hurried out of the mountain. Look at Zuyong's "Snow Peak in the South" and see how the South Mountain soars. The white top of the mountain is above the clouds. After the snow in Chu Qing, the afterglow of the sun shone from the forest. It was late, and Chang 'an was even more chilly. Meng Haoran's "Sleeping at Jiande", my boat is moving forward in the fog, the days are getting shorter and the memories of the old days begin. The vastness of the wilderness is deeper than trees, and the moon is very close to the moon. Author: Meng Haoran, this spring morning, I woke up briskly, and birds were singing everywhere. How many flowers fall after a stormy night.
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